I lost my faith in 2005
against a grey-red wall with
only clutter and no hope
that teaching was of
any contact on a day
in April after waiting
four long years for
response to my call
and hearing only
slogans and standards while you
you were all busy and pressed
being consistent

*yes, yes, of course; lines from ‘Losing My Religion‘ by R.E.M – I do not claim that I wrote these words (and I certainly don’t make any money through publishing them on my blog – *ironic emoticon*), just that I nicked them because they fitted so well as the title to the experience I had died through and the piece I had written ‘to see if I still feel’ (I didn’t write those last words either, if you can tell me who did I will award you one of the left over No Prizes that I never won during the Mighty Marvel Age) but that the words pervade the fabric of my dysfunctional relationship with teaching like the smell of cooked cabbage is mine, wholly mine, I tellya

I
ruptured from my family
to find my greater self
I worked the land
and it broke my back
I took a child to call
the land my own I
could make this land
for the benefit of all I
could be for the benefit
of all a fit place
to raise a family

I
must break you all
to make you see
you must eat the land I
bring to you I will make
you feed with my own hand
to your mouth if I have to
and then you will be baptised
and then you will see
my worth do you see
do you see do you see

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… Mark; remember …

"... the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful; it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe to find ashes.
~ Annie Dillard